Portrait of an Old Man
by Saturn's Heart
Summary: *COMPLETE* **ONESHOT** A picture speaks a thousand words.


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**Portrait of an Old Man**

By: Saturn's Heart

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Disclaimer: Sailor Moon is the property of Naoko Takeuchi of which I am not. I own the plot, majority of the original characters that will either play major or minor roles.

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Summery: A picture speaks a thousand words.

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Warnings: Okay I wrote this more then eleven years ago. I'm shocked to no end I still have this.

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She traced the weary lines at the corner of his eye. The shadows made the folded skin much more prominent. Under the sunlight, the weary laugh-lines and the signs of age cannot be hidden, even beneath the wide-brimmed hat.

His legs were crossed, one resting upon the other. The folds of the material gathered itself at the junction behind the knee and created creases that crumpled and huddled, pushed up against each other. There was where the color seemed to change, darkening in the valleys, beneath the shadows, and brightening wherever the light may touch.

A single line of smoke wisped out underneath the shade. In his weary, sun-spotted hand, between the middle and fore-fingers is a single cigarette. It was burning away at the tip, ashes of dried weed and paper scatter whenever a soft breeze blew by.

He was watching the ocean from his perch on the cliff. The collar of his shirt ruffled and fluttered against his chin and neck as the wind rushed in currents passed them. Sometimes he would catch the cigarette between his teeth and hold onto his hat when the rush of air got too strong. And she sat, remembering many afternoons like this one where she had sat by his side. Long ago, when she was too young to remember too clearly, he would take her by the hand and help her escape from the rigorous studies of old, Japanese traditions that her grandmother was so set to ingrain into her being. Back then, she would sit by him in her kimono and geta, watching the fisher-men return to harbor in their big metal ships with their new catches that day.

"It's still a beautiful place after all this time, Michi-chu," he says with a sigh. She paused in her sketch and peeked at him from over the top of her sketch book. He reached over and patted her on the top of her head, peering at her from beneath the brim of his straw hat. "You won't be coming in the summer any more. Your father thinks its best that you go to the private school in Tokyo and stop wasting your time with old people who still lives in a fishing village. The fool, he can only think about the money." The old man muttered the last part to himself.

"Ojii-san?" Michiru queried. "What if I don't want to go? What if I want to come and stay with you?"

Her grandfather blinked at her before letting out a loud shout of laughter. "You got your grandmother's talents and some of her stubbornness! Who'd have thought?" Her grandfather chuckled and took another drag of his cigarette. "It'll be a terrible waste if you stayed in a fishing village for the rest of your life, Michi-chu." Her grandfather said seriously as he rested his hands onto his legs and leaned heavily on his leg. "Your grandmother taught you the old ways because she wanted you to be as dignified as you looked. It won't be easy out there in the city, Michi-chu, and you'll probably not have time to come back..."

"I'll come back!" Michiru disagreed proudly with a shake of her head. "I'll never forget or abandon my home-town!"

"Your brother said that too, but then he saw the world." Her grandfather told her with a sigh before looking into her eyes again. "You don't belong here, Michiru. Even that idiot of a son of mine knew this from the moment you were born. You're going to be somebody. We knew it the moment your grandmother let you hold that old violin." She paused at this because her grandfather rarely used her full-name. She watched as her grandfather took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke to the winds. "It's enough if you remember this place. Remember where you come from and never be ashamed of it. That's all an old man can ask for."

"And letters," Michiru added with grin, though her heart felt heavy and her grandfather looked very sad, even though his expression didn't change. She was both excited and apprehensive about what her Father had told her the week before. It had seemed so sudden that she would be moving to Tokyo, living for now at the school to pursue her future in music. The few awards she had won had earned her a scholarship and a mysterious sponsor had agreed to provide her with whatever it was that she needed. She only agreed when she found out that her grandfather supported the decision. She knew that her grandfather would never let her go if he didn't think she would be ready or that it would do her good. Since her grandmother died four years ago, her grandfather always looked out for her and made her well-being his top-priority.

"Letters," her grandfather agreed absent-mindedly. There was a short pause before he started speaking again. "Remember Michi-chu," her grandfather stretched his long legs out before him and threw his cigarette into the dirt. "The ocean connects the world. If you get homesick, you know where to go. After all, wherever you are, the ocean will always tell you where the best fishes are and..."

"...how the village is." Michiru finished with a knowing smile.

"You have your great-grandmother's name, Michiru. We were very precise with the fortune-teller when it was chosen for you. Your grandmother and I taught you all that we knew of the old ways. After all, you know that we were once retainers of the daimyo in this region." She grinned because it was a favorite subject for her grandfather to boast about to anyone who would listen. "You have a very good name, Michiru," her grandfather said gravely. "Make us proud with such a name." For a little longer, they sat and watched the ocean in silence. They listened to the sea gulls crying, flying into the blue sky until they were no more than white dots overhead. They watched the bright and beautiful reflections of the sunlight on the ocean. In the silence, Michiru finished the portrait of her grandfather, with his aged hands and aged smile.

Tomorrow, she'll be traveling to Tokyo to start middle-school. Today, she was still a young girl from a village by the sea. Closing her eyes briefly, she inhaled the smell of the ocean, cigarettes and fish, the distinctive smell that her grandfather always had surrounding him. And looking down at the portrait in her hands, she hoped she'll never forget this. The sights and sounds of this little place by the sea, no matter the person she may come to be, she hoped that she would never forget it.


End file.
